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    Summary

    Jango had actually intended to finish off some flimsiwork at his desk while the drug worked its magic, wait until Obi-Wan was mindless with want before finally stalking over and claiming his prize.

    But of course no plan survives contact with the enemy. His omega is just too fun to rile up to leave him be until he's incoherent; watching him lose that whip-sharp wit and give in to his instincts is half of the fun.

    Besides, the omega's already in Jango's bed, in his den, in his ship, scent swamping the air until it's gravid with it. Obi-Wan can hiss and snap at him all he likes, but his body knows what it needs.

    Jango is all too happy to oblige.

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